THE ALLEYNIAN 708 | OUT OF THE ORDINARY
THE ALLEYNIAN 708 | OUT OF THE ORDINARY
CCF
CCF
T he Air Squadron Trophy (AST) is without a doubt the biggest RAF competition in which our Combined Cadet Force (CCF) takes part. It consists of two competitions: a regional and a national one, with RAF sections from other schools across the country taking part. The regional competition usually takes place in February, whilst the national normally occurs in March. How surprised we were then, when just a few weeks into the Michaelmas term, we received an email from the RAF informing us that this year’s regional competition would occur on 1 December. What ensued were some of the most frantic weeks of training we had ever undertaken. We set to work at once, learning and practising the six sections which the AST would test: RAF knowledge, aircraft recognition (shortened to recce), first aid, shooting, drill and command task (which tests leadership and teamwork as we attempt to complete a given task). Our team consisted of three veteran Year 13s (Henry Hall, Fraser Cox and me) and six Year 12s (Mikyle Ossman, Nick Blumschein, Christian Bertrand, Herbie Christophers, Gabriel De Almeida and Spike McGrath), each of whom had only done the competition once, last year, when we had achieved a rather underwhelming third in nationals. This year we were going for gold, so we needed a golden team. The names previously mentioned brought a well-rounded experience to the team, but we numbered just nine. To compete, we would need an additional four able men, and where better to find them than from among the shining faces of our youthful cadets? After a rigorous selection process (conducted by yours truly), Joe Williams, Andre Delshadian and Konstantinos Doran (all Year 11) joined the ranks, along
with our youngest member, Edward Stimpson (Year 10). Not since the days of Jason and the Argonauts had such an impressive band been brought together and bound by a common cause. We trained. Every lunchtime was devoted to knowledge and recce, every Tuesday after school (and indeed, some Saturdays) were spent slaving away at learning the drill sequence. Evenings became the time for parade shoe polishing; weekends were turned over to ironing uniform. Finally, the fateful day arrived. Regionals. Piling onto a cramped minibus, we began the dreaded drive to RAF Halton. As we stepped blinking into the sodium-lit hanger that was the competition space, our eyes fell upon the competition – Wilson’s School, the reigning champions. This day, we swore to ourselves, their reign would end.
And so it did.
For nine long hours we threw ourselves into every stand of the competition, and by the end of the day, we stood tall, claiming the regional crown for ourselves. The reign of Wilson’s was finished. What more needs be said of nationals, except that it involved more hard work, more slaving hours, more heartache – and more ultimate triumph. Not only did we win the national competition, but we also picked up first place in first aid and knowledge, and second in recce and drill. It was a glorious feeling as we rode the victory coach back to Dulwich with the AST trophy in our hands.
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